I first met Dennis in nineteen eighty four When I asked for her hand and he gave it. “You can take the rest of her you know ... !” He was funny and smart, my dad-in-law. Dennis has dementia. He's laughing and joking with the children, Grandad Dennis in nineteen ninety three, That’s my young son he’s with on the DVD We made, that holiday in France. Dennis has dementia. In the next century he danced with his granddaughter At her wedding. I watch my girl twirl With her grandad, a twinkle in his eye. What did he say that day? He looked happy. Dennis has dementia. I see a film on a mobile phone, Dennis Sits crumpled in a chair, in a home, not his own. Clapping half-heartedly not quite to the beat Surrounded by his family trying to keep him in time. Dennis has dementia. “He doesn't even recognise us now.” But what do they know? What do we know? What does he know? Dennis has dementia. What does he know? Tony Johnson. 21st August 2018